Bad News, Good Friend
by alynwa
Summary: Written for the Song Story Challenge on LJ, the prompt is Ray LaMontagne's "Let It Be Me."
1. Chapter 1

Illya checked his watch again as he sat at his desk awaiting Napoleon's return from Medical. They had been met at the agents' entrance by Dr. Jameson, Chief Medical Officer and Mr. Waverly himself that morning as they reported for duty. "Good morning, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin," the Old Man had said, "Have I heard correctly, Gentlemen, that you have been actively avoiding your annual physicals for the past three weeks?"

The CEA had colored slightly. "Ah, Sir, um…"

Mr. Waverly waved his hand dismissively to silence his subordinate's stuttering. "Mr. Kuryakin, you will go with Doctor Jameson immediately. Upon your return to your office, your partner will go to Medical." He then turned to Napoleon. "If you are not in Medical ten minutes after Mr. Kuryakin has left, Dr. Jameson has been instructed to refer you directly to _my_ office."

"Understood, Sir," Napoleon had replied. He nodded to Illya as he and the doctor turned and walked away.

Illya had hated every moment; stripping down to put on that ridiculous gown that opened at the most inopportune and embarrassing times, his blood being drawn to fill vials for later testing, the poking and prodding of his body by the doctor and lastly, the chest X-ray and EKG. It all felt one step below THRUSH torture and he was glad when he was told he could dress and head to his office. As soon as he came through the door, Napoleon grabbed his suit jacket, smiled grimly and headed to Medical.

That had been just over three hours ago. _Even if he flirted with every nurse there, Napoleon still should have been back a half – hour ago._ _Perhaps he decided to stop in the Commissary, it is lunch time now, after all._ His phone rang just as he decided he would go meet his partner. "Kuryakin."

"Doctor Jameson here," came the reply, "Did Mr. Solo return to your office?"

"No. In fact, I was just about to go the Commissary; I assumed he went there."

A deep sigh came through the receiver. "I was afraid this might happen. Mr. Solo received some…disturbing news and opted to take the rest of the day. I advised him to speak to you before he left but…"

Illya interrupted. "What sort of bad news?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, patient confidentiality prohibits…"

"I am his partner! I get his diagnoses and prognoses all the time!"

"Yes, Mr. Kuryakin, you do when it's mission related. Since this isn't, he will have to tell you himself as I don't have his permission to tell you anything. However, I _can_ tell you that Mr. Waverly is aware and has given you permission to go check on your partner."

"Why did you not say so in the first place?" the Russian growled, "Goodbye." He slammed the handset down in its cradle, snatched his jacket and headed for reception.

Forty minutes later, Illya was at his partner's door. There had been no answer when the doorman had rung the apartment, but he had assured Illya that Napoleon had indeed entered the building and gone upstairs and since he knew the blond had a standing invitation, he was allowed to take the penthouse elevator.

He tapped out the code they used to alert one another that the key was about to be used and all was well. He unlocked and stepped inside the door, reset the alarms and looked around. Though it was a partly sunny afternoon, the apartment was darkened because the blinds and drapes were closed. Illya strained his ears, but couldn't hear a sound.

"Napoleon?" Silence. _How odd._ Instinctively, he drew his weapon and slowly began to search the apartment. _Could he be sleeping? Even so, the intercom should have awakened him._ He moved through the kitchen, office and living room before finally walking down the hall to the master bedroom.

Napoleon was slumped on his bed, coat and shoes still on despite the penthouse's warmth and dirt on the comforter. He had a tumbler in his hand full of scotch from the smell of it. He looked drawn and pale. He gulped from the glass, closed his eyes while the liquor burned down his throat, opened them and gazed at Illya's Walther. "Are you here to finish me? Because that would make things a lot easier right about now."

Alarmed, the Russian holstered his weapon, shed his coat and sat on the edge of the bed. "What has happened? Doctor Jameson would tell me nothing; only that I should speak to you. Napoleon, what is this news he mentioned?" He watched as his partner sat silently; he could see sadness flitting across his face, but there was another emotion showing itself more. A shock ran through him when he realized that Napoleon was afraid. "Napasha," he whispered, "what is wrong?"

Napoleon drained his glass and set it on the nightstand. "Doctor Jameson found a lump on my, ah, right testicle during my physical. He sent me for an ultrasound."

"Oh no, moy droog, no. You have testicular cancer?"

"He doesn't know!" He laughed mirthlessly. "Jameson said it's extremely rare for testicular cancer not to be revealed during an ultrasound, but I'm one of those special cases where a diagnosis couldn't be reached. So, he has to perform surgery. He wanted to do it today, but…it was just…too much. I said I'll come back tomorrow morning."

"Did he explain what he would have to do?"

Napoleon nodded. "Are you familiar with the procedure?" When the blond shook his head Napoleon said, "When a diagnosis of testicular cancer is uncertain, the doctor may biopsy the testicle before removing it. The surgeon makes a cut above the pubic area, withdraws the testicle from the scrotum, and examines it without cutting the spermatic cord. If a suspicious area is seen, a portion of it is removed and looked at right away by the pathologist. If cancer is found, the testicle and spermatic cord are then removed. If the tissue is not cancerous, the testicle can usually be returned to the scrotum, and treatment will be surgery to remove only the tumor or the use of appropriate medicines to shrink it." He began to rock back and forth. "Jameson wanted to 'be on the safe side' and just remove it. I said no, I want the biopsy. Beyond the fact that he'd be doing it without a clear diagnosis, I would be treated with radiation that would render me sterile and probably impotent."

"Bozhe moy!"

"Illya, you know that sex and seduction are part and parcel of being an effective agent. I'd be damn near useless in the field. And the idea that I might never be able to…really _be_ with a woman again, or father a child if I want to, that terrifies me." He rubbed his hands across his face. "I, ah, I'm afraid I wouldn't feel like a real man anymore." He swiped at his face again and Illya thought he had wiped away a tear. "I'm afraid I wouldn't feel like _anything_ anymore. This hasn't been a good day, to say the least. Nothing's going my way today."

Illya kicked off his shoes and eased onto the bed so that he was sitting next to his partner with his back against the headboard. They were about a foot apart, but he wasn't sure him moving closer was something Napoleon wanted. "Why did you not call me? We have been partners for three years."

The older man shrugged. "I don't know. I was feeling overwhelmed by what he was telling me. I resented him trying to get me to consent to surgery so quickly and just wanted to get out of the building. I just, ah, needed some time to process stuff."

"Nyet. You needed, you _need_ a friend. Let it be me, Napoleon." He pulled his legs up so that he could rest his elbows on his knees. "You are not alone. You do not have to go through this alone. You have drummed it into my head that we must be honest with each other. That honesty has built our friendship and trust. You are the first true friend I have ever had and I am grateful for your friendship because I know what it is like to be completely alone in the world, to have to face frightening things on missions and in life knowing there is no one to call because no one cares. I needed someone so many times and I had no one. You need someone now, Napoleon. I am right here. Let it be me."

Napoleon turned toward his partner, slid closer and pulled the smaller man into a tight hug. "Thank you, Illya," he whispered into the Russian's ear, "Thank you." He laid his head on the blond's shoulder and allowed himself to be comforted by his friend's hands rubbing up and down his back. He remained there for a few moments before pulling back and standing and removing his coat. "The Pity Party is over. Have you eaten today?"

"No, I have not."

"Me, neither. Come on, I'll make us an early supper. I've got the makings of an Italian feast."

Illya followed Napoleon to the kitchen. "Would it not be better to order takeout?"

"Cooking relaxes me and gives me something else to focus on besides this mess," Napoleon replied as he tied on an apron. You want Alfredo or Bolognese sauce?"

The two men sat in the living room with drinks in their hands digesting their meals. Napoleon had indeed prepared an Italian feast of hot and cold antipasti, spaghetti with meatballs topped with Bolognese sauce, and a tiramisu for dessert. He had made so much that even Illya's prodigious appetite had to surrender. Napoleon glanced at the Russian, who was sipping vodka and stubbornly forcing himself to stay awake and smiled. _You have no idea, Partner Mine, what you have done for me. I mean, I knew we were building a friendship, but I didn't realize how strong a bond you feel with me. I have faith that things might turn out all right and even if they don't, God forbid, you'll have my back. I am humbled and proud that I am worthy of your friendship. Look at you, fighting sleep just in case I need you. You're the best, Kuryakin._

Illya's eyes snapped open and he caught Napoleon looking at him with a beatific smile. "What?" he asked.

"You're tired. Let me give you cab fare or if you prefer, you're welcome to spend the night."

"I can just take the subway."

"So you can fall asleep and wake up God knows where? No, thank you. I need you by my side tomorrow morning when Jameson gives me the results of the biopsy. So please, take the money or spend the night."

"And listen to you snore like a wounded moose? No, thank _you_." The Russian took the cash and shoved it into his pocket. Grinning, he said, "Twenty dollars seems a lot."

"Tip well." He walked his friend to the door. "The doorman will have a cab ready for you by the time you get downstairs." He disarmed the alarms and opened the door. "See you in the morning," Napoleon said as he clapped the smaller man on the back.

"Good night, Napoleon." As he rode the elevator he thought, _It does not matter what the outcome of the procedure is, he will need a friend. It will be me._


	2. Chapter 2

Illya had arrived at UNCLE HQ just after seven the next morning. Napoleon had told him over dinner that his procedure was scheduled for eight and there was no way the Russian wasn't going to be there when Napoleon was sedated and he fully intended to be the first person his partner saw upon awakening. Just then, the pneumatic door slid open to reveal the CEA.

"Napoleon!" he gasped, "You look godawful! Did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

"Morning to you, too, Illya. I'd be insulted if I hadn't seen myself in the mirror." The usually dapper Solo was unshaven, his hair though combed, lacked its everyday Brylcream sheen and there were noticeable bags under his eyes. "And no, I couldn't sleep. I've gotten better rest in a THRUSH cell. Do me a favor, would you, Partner Mine, and get me a cup of black coffee? Make it two."

"I will return shortly." Illya walked quickly to the Commissary and got a tray on which he placed the requested coffee plus a cup of tea and some donuts. He paid the cashier and was almost at the exit when Glenna and Marian entered.

"Illya," Marian said, "we've heard a very disturbing rumor about Napoleon's health. Is he okay?"

Illya swallowed his first reaction which was to tell them to mind their own damn business. After all, these two women treated him and Napoleon like people, not trophies to be won and displayed for all to see. Instead he said, "I appreciate your concern, Ladies; however, I think it is neither appropriate to comment on rumors nor discuss my partner's physical state. I'm sure you understand."

Marian elbowed Glenna slightly and said, "Told you." She looked at the agent and explained, "Apparently, one of the nurses must have read Napoleon's file, said something to someone and now the Grapevine has it all over the building that, depending on who you hear it from, Napoleon is either terminally ill or has sustained some unspeakable injury to his manhood."

Now, it was Marian's turn to be elbowed. She glared at her companion. " _What?_ "

"Tell him the rest!"

Illya looked at Marian expectantly. "The rest?"

She colored slightly and looked at the floor. "Well, a few of the Section IIIs are going with the injured genitals story and saying that you and Napoleon probably got into a fight and you caused his injury; their logic being that you wouldn't let anyone else hurt him so it had to be you." The expression on Illya's face changed so quickly she actually took a step back. "I know that's not true and when I overheard that particular piece of disturbing gossip being bandied about, I spoke up to say it isn't true." She sucked her teeth in disgust. "Let's just say that some people will believe anything that feeds into their bigoted ideas."

He glanced at his watch and said, "I have to get back. Thank you for telling me what you have heard," and with that, he pushed the door with his butt and left.

"I don't want to be around when he confronts those guys in Section III," Glenna said as she picked up a tray to hand to Marian before grabbing one for herself.

"Right now, he's focused on his partner as well he should be," Marian responded, "but God help them when he has time to deal with this nonsense."

"I was starting to think you had traveled to Colombia to harvest the beans yourself," Napoleon retorted as he accepted the proffered coffee from Illya's hand. He managed two slurps before the phone on his desk rang. "Solo." He listened for a few seconds before saying, "I'm on my way" before replacing the handset in its cradle. "That was Dr. Jameson. They're ready for me." He stood up and watched as Illya also stood and put on his jacket. "What are you doing?"

"I am going with you. I have a question for the good doctor."

When they arrived in Medical, Napoleon was whisked off to change into a hospital gown and prep for surgery while Illya went to Doctor Jameson's office. He knocked and heard "Come in!"

"Good morning, Agent Kuryakin! Why am I not surprised to see you?"

"Good morning. I have been doing a bit of research about this procedure. Will you be putting Agent Solo under general anesthesia?"

"I can, but the procedure can be done using local anesthesia, also. I know how you Section IIs dislike being out of control, so I planned to give him the choice of how he wanted this to go."

"I see. Well, if he decides on a local rather than a general, I want to be in the room with him while the procedure is performed."

Doctor Jameson removed his reading glasses and stared. "You want…you want to be in the operating theater? That is…an _unusual_ request."

"Perhaps, but this is Napoleon's darkest hour and I know he would not admit it to you, but he needs me and I will not desert him in his time of need. Put the choice to him: If he decides on a local, then tell him I insist on being there."

"And if he chooses general anesthesia?"

"Then I will sit by his bedside in Recovery until he awakens. In any event, do not tell him I want to be there before he makes his choice. I do not want to influence his decision."

"Very well," Doctor Jameson said as he stood and put on his white lab coat. "Wait here. I'm going to speak to your partner now. A nurse will come in to let you know what was decided and direct you appropriately." He nodded curtly and exited the room.

Illya sat and perused Jameson's diplomas, certificates and citations he had hanging on his wall. _He really is an excellent doctor; UNCLE is lucky to have him. Napoleon is lucky to have him._ Just as he was starting to wonder what was taking so long, the door opened and a nurse entered.

"Agent Kuryakin, hello. My name is Nurse Robertson and the doctor told me to get you, put you in scrubs and escort you to where he'll be performing Agent Solo's procedure. Come with me, please. Oh, and I'm to tell you that he informed Mr. Waverly and he's approved your being with Agent Solo."

They walked down the hall and she stopped in front of the men's locker room. "There's a bin with bags of clean scrubs just inside the door. Put a set on and choose any free locker to store your clothing. I'll be waiting for you right here."

"Thank you." Illya went through the door, saw the bin filled with freshly laundered tops and bottoms sealed in plastic bags and chose his sizes. Changing swiftly, he placed his things in a locker and after locking it with the key stuck in the lock, he placed it in the pants pocket. When he came out, Nurse Robertson smiled.

"Those fit you well, Agent Kuryakin. Let's get you down to the operating room."

"I have not seen you here before, Nurse Robertson. Are you a new hire?"

"No, I have been with the UNCLE for just under a year. I was working in the Denver field office, but I always wanted to work at Headquarters. I've been here almost a month. I've been working almost exclusively with Dr. Jameson. Here we are." She opened a door which put them in a small anteroom. The door opposite the one they entered had a small window through which he could just see Napoleon's head lying on a table.

Nurse Robertson opened that door and pointed to a stool on wheels that was next to where Napoleon was lying. Right at his waistline, there was a linen curtain that draped over his body and extended almost two feet on either side of his body. When Illya sat down, he realized that though he could see over the curtain, he was unable to see the lower half of Napoleon's body. "Have a seat. Dr. Jameson will be in momentarily to begin." She stepped around the curtain and exited yet another door, one Illya assumed led to the doctor so she could inform him all was ready.

"Napoleon," he said softly as he took his partner's hand, "how are you doing?"

The CEA's first response was to take Illya's free hand in his own and place it on his right hand. When the Russian gently squeezed it with both hands, he smiled wanly and replied, "I've been better."

Just then, the door opened and Dr. Jameson entered followed by Nurse Robertson. "Good morning, Gentlemen," he said as he settled himself on a stool behind the curtain. "This won't take very long and I'm going to be explaining what's happening. I'm sorry that you have to go through this, Napoleon, but this is the only way it's possible to save the testicle. Do either of you have any questions?" The curtain was low enough for him to see both men.

Illya shook his head and Napoleon asked, "Are you sure we can't go to dinner first?

The doctor smiled at that and said, "Okay, let's get started. Napoleon, relax your legs; I'm going to raise them and place your feet into stirrups. Good, thank you. I see Nurse Robertson has shaved you as I requested, so now what you feel is me cleaning the injection area with an alcohol swab. You're doing fine."

At the words "injection area," Napoleon's eyes had widened. "You're _sticking a needle there?"_ he asked incredulously as Illya winced.

"Don't worry, Napoleon. What you're feeling now is me swabbing a numbing agent to your skin. There. We'll give it a few moments to take effect."

He disappeared from their line of sight and they could hear him moving something around. Illya imagined it was a pan with instruments. He lifted his head and looked directly into Napoleon's eyes. "Feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"Perfect! Okay, you're not going to feel any pain, but you're going to feel pressure right…now."

Napoleon took a deep breath and looked at Illya, who tightened his grip on his partner's hand, bent his head closer and began to speak directly into Napoleon's ear.

"Hey, Doc?"

"Yes, Napoleon?"

"I don't think I need the blow by blow, just tell me what you find out." He looked at the Russian. "I'm scared, Illya," he whispered.

Illya moved the stool closer and leaned in farther so that his forehead rested on Napoleon's cheek.

Doctor Jameson looked up briefly from his work and was mesmerized by what he saw. He bent back down and closely examined the exposed tissue. Satisfied, he looked up at the men again. "Napoleon."

Illya lifted his head and Napoleon shifted so that he was staring at the doctor. Both men had schooled their faces into expressionless masks; the only sign of any tension was both of the Russian's hands holding Napoleon's right hand while his left moved to rest on Illya's forearm. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I am one hundred percent confident that this is a sex cord stromal tumor."

"A _what?_ English please, Doc!"

"It's not cancer. It's benign and sometimes, they go away on their own, but since I've come this far, I'm just going to remove it and replace your testicle back where it belongs. There are no long-term effects. You'll experience some soreness until you're healed, but nothing Ibuprofen can't take care of. I'll inform Mr. Waverly that you should stay out of the field for three weeks. You'll be fine after that."

Napoleon blinked several times before replying, "Thank you. I'm glad to hear that, thank you. I'll let you get to it."

Doctor Jameson removed the cyst, replaced the testicle and used two stitches to close. He turned to say something to Nurse Robertson and then left.

"Agent Solo, just relax, I'm putting your legs down one at a time. All done! I fastening your robe closed before I remove this curtain. The doctor used dissolving stitches, so you don't have to worry about having them removed. You can go home tonight, but he wants you to stay in Medical for the rest of the day just as a precaution. Do you have any questions?"

"No."

"Great! I'll have an orderly take you to a room in a few minutes."

The two men watched her go. Napoleon heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Partner Mine…"

"I know. I was frightened for you, too." Illya stood and put his arms around Napoleon's neck who hugged him hard before letting him go and swiping at his eyes. "But I should have known," Illya said when the urge to cry had passed, "that it would have _something_ to do with sex."

Napoleon tried to scowl, but instead began to laugh. He pulled the blond back into a hug and they both laughed, ignoring the faint edge of hysteria they both felt.

"So, Doctor Jameson, sit down. What do you have to tell me about my Chief Enforcement Agent?" Mr. Waverly asked as he puffed on his favorite Woodstock pipe. It was late afternoon and he finally had some time to speak to his Chief Medical Officer. He had gotten the bottom line in a phone conversation earlier in the morning, but he wanted a face to face verbal report.

"Agent Solo came through with flying colors, Sir. I am very pleased that it wasn't cancer, to say the least. He should be completely healed in three weeks and ready for fieldwork in no more than four weeks." He leaned forward in his seat and placed his arms against the circular table. "May I be frank, Sir?"

"Of course."

"When you started pairing up agents in permanent partnerships, I was skeptical. I really didn't see the point and I thought it would ultimately prove to be detrimental because agents might begin to depend on each other too much."

"I see. And now?"

"Now, I see the advantages. Obviously, I knew Mr. Kuryakin was concerned about his partner, but I was surprised when he said he wanted to be in the room while I performed Mr. Solo's procedure. I allowed it, but I was prepared to make him leave if I thought his presence was becoming a hindrance. However, I believe or rather, I _know_ , that having him in the room helped keep my patient calm. I can't explain it, Mr. Waverly, but at one point I looked at them and it was as if I could see Kuryakin giving his strength to his partner, I could feel their bond; Agent Solo was terrified, but he was able to face his fear because his partner was there for him, standing by him. For a moment, I actually felt a twinge of jealousy because their connection is so strong."

Mr. Waverly harrumphed as he puffed on his pipe. "Well, that's not why I started partnering agents; the main purpose is to increase the chances of mission success while decreasing the chances of losing valuable assets. It costs an ungodly amount of money to train an agent and losing one is a serious financial blow. The bond that you're describing is a side effect albeit a positive one. Usually."

"Well, Sir, all I know is I won't be making light of agents' partnerships anymore. In fact, I think I'll encourage agents to take care of their partners when they're released from Medical. In fact, Mr. Kuryakin is staying with his partner for a few days. Solo and Kuryakin as well as Dancer and Slate do it automatically."

"Now they do. Remember, Doctor, those are the New York office's longest pairings. Hopefully, other teams will develop in the same manner. Thank you for your report."

Knowing he was being dismissed, Doctor Jameson stood. "Good night, Mr. Waverly," he said before turning to leave.

"Oh yes, before you go, Nurse Robertson is being transferred back to Denver effective immediately."

"I'm sorry to hear that; she's an excellent nurse."

"And according to Miss Rogers, a terrible gossip. Miss Rogers overheard her in the ladies' room discussing Mr. Solo's procedure this afternoon. Mr. Kuryakin had informed me prior to that that he was fairly certain, based on his conversation with the woman, she had started rumors about Mr. Solo's health. When Miss Rogers told me what she had overheard, that sealed Miss Robertson's fate. She is fortunate I didn't fire her. I also stand by my agents, Doctor."

The look on Mr. Waverly's face squashed any argument Doctor Jameson could have used to defend the nurse. "I understand, Sir. Good night."

Illya was watching television in Napoleon's living room. When the eleven o'clock news went off, he decided to head to bed. He turned off the TV and walked down the hall to the master bedroom. He peeked in just as Napoleon was reaching for the lamp to turn it off. "I am going to bed now," he said. "Is there anything you need before I do?"

"No, Illya, you've gone above and beyond today." He held up his hand when he saw his partner about to protest. "No, I mean it. We're there for each other for battle wounds and fire fights, but this was different. I was terrified and I needed you, but I didn't know if you could help me. But you did. Thank you, Illya, for reminding me that I'm not alone out here. Good night."

"You are welcome. Good night, moy droog." Illya closed the door and headed to the guest bedroom. _I hope we never have to face anything like that again, but if we must, I will stand by you just like I know you will stand by me._

Oh, why you look so sad?  
Tears are in your eyes  
Come on and come to me now  
Don't be ashamed to cry  
Let me see you through  
'cause I've seen the dark side too  
When the night falls on you  
You don't know what to do  
Nothing you confess  
Could make me love you less

I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you  
I'll stand by you

So if you're mad, get mad  
Don't hold it all inside  
Come on and talk to me now  
Hey, what you got to hide?  
I get angry too  
Well I'm a lot like you  
When you're standing at the crossroads  
And don't know which path to choose  
Let me come along  
'cause even if you're wrong

I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you  
I'll stand by you  
Take me in, into your darkest hour  
And I'll never desert you  
I'll stand by you

And when...  
When the night falls on you, baby  
You're feeling all alone  
You won't be on your own

I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you

I'll stand by you  
Take me in, into your darkest hour  
And I'll never desert you  
I'll stand by you  
I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you  
I'll stand by you  
Won't let nobody hurt you  
I'll stand by you


End file.
